


Crash Into Me

by the_misfortune_teller



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Cora & Stiles are college age, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fingering, Flirting, Post 3a, friends hooking up, hooking up in a club, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_misfortune_teller/pseuds/the_misfortune_teller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You don’t think we’re maybe crossing some kind of line?” Stiles asks quietly, his hand resting on her shoulder</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Pretty sure you crossed the line when you ate me out,” She replies glibly, feeling her cheeks grow hot when he gives a small snort of laughter at that. “Might as well make sure we’re well and truly across it.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash Into Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeCaStDe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCaStDe/gifts).



>   
> _Oh and you come crash_  
>  _into me, baby_  
>  _And I come into you_  
>  _Hike up your skirt a little more_  
>  _and show the world to me_  
>  _Hike up your skirt a little more_  
>  _and show your world to me_  
>  _In a boys dream.. In a boys dream_  
>  ~  
>  _Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band_  
> 

She spots him moments before he turns and makes eye contact; as she watches him, she sees a look of confusion flicker across his face before his recognizes her and grins when he mouths her name and points towards the bar.

“Little Hale,” He shouts in her ear with a grin when she finally makes it to where he’s standing.

“Shrimp dick,” She counters, punching him lightly in the arm. She hates that nickname, makes her feel like she’s forever going to be known only as ‘Derek’s little sister’ to people.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles continues, putting his hand on her shoulder as he leans closer.

Cora gestures vaguely in the direction of her friends, not really caring if Stiles can’t work out which ones they are. She hadn’t really wanted to come to a club, and would have been quite happy to stay in the quieter bar they’d been in earlier. Right now though, she’s too busy focusing on the way Stiles seems to be absent mindedly twisting a strand of her hair around his fingers.

“I meant here _here_ ,” He clarifies, pulling his hand away when she raises an eyebrow. “In town.”

“I go to school here now.”

“BHCC? Huh. Thought you’d have stayed away once you got the chance to escape.”

“I missed Derek,” Cora tells him, frowning when he laughs. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Taking a couple of weeks off,” Stiles tells her, his expression going distant and closed off in a way that puts her in mind of Derek. It’s patently clear that Stiles doesn’t want to talk about the reasons why he’s home and she’s not going to start probing.

“You want a drink?” He asks, lifting his hand and miming a drinking action, like she can’t hear him perfectly well over the thundering bass. She shrugs; the alcohol won’t do anything for her but it’ll at least give her something to do with her hands.

“You look good,” He tells her, giving her a sidelong glance as he leans on the bar and tries to get the bartender’s attention.

Cora tugs at the hem of the dress she’s wearing; she’d have been happier wearing her usual leggings with a long top, but Kimmy had nagged and pestered her so much about dressing up tonight that she’d reluctantly borrowed one of her dresses, the most demure one she could find in Kimmy’s wardrobe. It feels too short, the floaty hem stopping a good couple of inches above her knees, and she’s really not sure about the cut out section around her ribs and back that meant she felt like she had to go without a bra. Kimmy had at least stopped short of badgering her into borrowing a pair of heels and she’d refused to be parted from her jacket because having so much of her back exposed was making her far too uncomfortable. His compliment makes her feel uncomfortable, because although she can’t hear a lie, she’s definitely not the prettiest girl in the club, but Stiles is sort of looking at her like she might be, his eyes flitting up and down when he thinks she won’t notice.

“Seriously,” Stiles adds, putting a protective hand on her back when a group of guys barge past them. “You look really good.”

“So I look like shit normally,” She grins, leaning into him when he doesn’t take his hand away from the small of her back. It’s nice actually; she feels like it should feel awkward, because it’s Stiles, and they’re in a club, and his hand is resting on her back in what might look a slightly possessive way. After a few minutes, his hand slips up and under her jacket, his fingers brushing against her bare skin as he orders their drinks. She sneaks a look at him while he’s talking to the bar tender; he still looks like the same old Stiles she met four years ago, still wearing his classic shirt and jeans combo, but now they’re a little more fitted, the graphic t-shirt replaced by a thin, v necked tee instead. It’s showing off a patch of chest hair, which is just weird because this is _Stiles_. Stiles isn’t supposed to have chest hair or be this worryingly attractive.

Once they’ve finally got their drinks, and Stiles has flirted with the barman a little bit longer, they head up to the club’s mezzanine floor, leaning against the wall near the toilets where it’s slightly quieter and she doesn’t have to shout for him to hear her.

“You here with Scott?” Cora asks as she takes a swig from her bottle of beer.

“Isaac,” Stiles looks over towards the stairs. “He’s probably ditched me by now though. He’s a terrible wing man.”

“Aww, you can’t hook up with someone without outside help?”

“Fuck you, Little Hale,” Stiles scowls. “I do plenty fine!”

“Got rid of that pesky virginity then?”

“Sure did.”

“Doubtful Stiles, very doubtful.”

“Hey, I’d offer to demonstrate just how not a virgin I am,” Stiles laughs, chewing on his straw as he watches her, “But I think that might just be incredibly weird and awkward for both of us.”

She nods slowly, listening as he starts to chatter eagerly about what he and Isaac have been doing since he’s been back in town, which mostly seems to involve going to bars and getting wasted; how that works on Isaac’s part she doesn’t know or care. She’s not really listening to him, her mind still mulling over why it would be awkward for anything to happen between them. The more she watches him, gesturing widely as he talks, the more she remembers just why she’d  been attracted to him back when she’d first returned to Beacon Hills, because under all the new clothes and broader shoulders and _chest hair_ , he still the same old Stiles, and the crush she thought she’d gotten over has just popped back up to make itself known.

“Why would it be weird?” She asks suddenly, cutting him off mid-flow.

“Why would what be weird?” Stiles asks after a beat.

“Anything happening between us.”

“You don’t think it would?” Stiles asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You don’t even like me.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I totally hate you. That’s why I’m standing here talking to you now.” She looks away from him and down at the bottle in her hand, picking idly at the label. “I like you.”

“Aww, I like you too,” Stiles replies with a grin as he bumps his shoulder against hers. “You always were my favorite Hale.”

That’s a line and she knows it, but it still gives her butterflies in her stomach; she likes Stiles flirting with her, much more than she’d liked watching him flirt with the barman downstairs. She’s not going to dwell on the fact that she definitely wasn’t Stiles’ favorite Hale for most of the time she knew him. That title was, and might be still, reserved for Derek.

“Would it really be that weird?” She asks as she shakes her head, determined to clear out any niggling jealous thoughts she might have about Stiles liking Derek.

Stiles shrugs as he takes another sip of his drink, his shirt sleeve catching on her jacket. “Don’t know. Only one way to find out really, isn’t there?”

“You want to,” Cora asks suddenly, turning so her hip is resting against the wall and she can look at him.

“What?”

“Want to find out? If it’d be weird.”

She smiles demurely when Stiles goggles at her; she’s not quite sure what made her say that, but as she looks up at him through her lashes, she realizes she really wants to kiss him.

“OK?” Stiles murmurs, taking her empty bottle and setting it down on the floor behind him along with his own nearly empty glass before stepping closer to her and resting his hand on her arm. He seems to freeze as he touches her, just staring down at her as though he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do next.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

She reaches up and curls her hand around the back of his neck, wishing for a moment that she’d taken Kimmy up on the offer to borrow a pair of heels, because he seems taller than she remembers and she has to stretch up a little to meet him. He makes a startled little ‘oof’ noise when their lips meet, but regains his composure in a matter of seconds and lets her push him backwards until he’s pressed up against the wall behind them.

His lips are sticky, and she can taste the vanilla from his spiced rum when he slips his tongue into her mouth; for a minute, she feels like she’s about to giggle, because this is _Stiles_ and they’re kissing and it should be weird, but then he moves his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking across her cheekbones as he licks confidently into her mouth and she sort of melts into it, moving her hands to fist them in the back of his shirt.

By the time they separate, they’re both gasping slightly and Cora is beyond caring that she’s been making embarrassing little whimpering sounds the whole time they’ve been kissing.

“So that definitely wasn’t weird,” Stiles grins, his hands still tangled in her hair as he rests his forehead against hers.

She nods, as much as she’s able to and reaches up to grip his wrists, enjoying the way she can feel his pulse racing just beneath the skin when she gives him a quick peck on the lips.

“Apartment,” She blurts out, laughing when Stiles frowns at the non sequitur. “My apartment. It’s like five blocks from here. We could, um, go there if you want?”

“You want me to come back to your place?” Stiles clarifies. “Why?”

She lets go of his wrists and slides one hand down between the two of them and tracing the line of his half hard cock with her fingertips, laughing when he mutters a little ‘ah!’ of surprise as the contact.

“You want – oh!” Stiles pulls a stupid face as she continues to stroke him through his jeans. “With me? Seriously?”

Cora just smiles coyly in response, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing a kiss against his lips; Stiles responds immediately, kissing her so fervently that it feels like it would bruise if she were human.

“Come with me,” She tells him, resting her hand flat against his chest as she presses her lips to his cheek. Stiles does as he’s told, grabbing for her hand as she walks away from him, as though he’s worried she’s going to dart off; that’s definitely not something she’s planning on doing any time soon and she squeezes his hand tightly to try and get that point across to him.

He uses his grip on her hand to pull her into another passionate kiss the minute they’re out into the cool night air, She pulls away, feeling embarrassed when a passerby cheers at them, calling out for them to ‘get in there!’.

Glancing over Stiles’ shoulder, she spots a dark alley running down the side of the club and impulsively rests her hands on Stiles’ stomach and pushing him backwards until he takes the hint and moves towards the alleyway; he reaches out, grabbing at her dress and pulling her close, a small, slightly disbelieving smile on his face, as though he wasn’t sure they’re actually doing this. If she’s honest, she’s a little surprised by the whole situation too; surprised and feeling an increasingly urgent need to be kissing him again.

“I thought your apartment was close by,” Stiles murmurs against her neck between little nips and kisses at the delicate skin below her ear, pushing her back against the brick wall.

“It is,” Cora replies with a sigh; she has her hand wedged between them as she rubs his dick through his jeans and shivers when she feels it twitch at her touch. “Seems really far away right now though.”

Stiles gives a little hum of agreement, lowering his head so he can lick across her collarbone; as he kisses the hollow of her throat, he moves his hands, tugging at her jacket until her shoulders and upper arms are exposed. It’s pinning her arms in a really uncomfortable position and she quickly struggles out of it, dropping it onto the ground.

She moves her hand to Stiles’ fly, but before she can get hold of the zipper, Stiles gently bats her fingers away and shakes his head, his hair tickling her cheek as she frowns.

“Can I touch you?”

“You already are,” She points out with a nod to where he’s trailing his fingertips up and down her arm.

“Not what I meant,” Stiles replies, letting his hand slip from her arm and down her side until he’s tenderly gripping her hip.

Cora blushes when she realizes what he means; it’s not so much the knowledge of what he’s asking to do that makes her feel weird, more the way he’s asking so sincerely and it occurs to her suddenly that she’s never been asked for permission like this before; she’s always just kind of let the people she’s been with do, to an extent, what they want. She wonders if it’s something to do with being a beta, that she’s biologically intended to do what she’s told. Stiles asking her and giving her that control makes her stomach flip over in anticipation.

“Yes,” She whispers at last. It doesn’t take long for Stiles to slip his hand down the front of her panties, kissing her gently as he slowly explores her folds; she moans into his mouth as he starts to apply pressure to her clit, moving his finger in tiny circular motions that make her shudder and jerk as she feels herself growing wetter and wetter.

She grabs him by the wrist, keeping one hand pressed against Stiles’ crotch, while she directs his hand further down, exhaling sharply when he slips two fingers inside of her, rubbing at her clit with the pad of his thumb.

“This OK?” He asks, sounding almost nervous; Cora nods as she pulls away from his kiss, burying her face against the side of his neck as she tries to keep her breathing under control. Stiles definitely seems to know what he’s doing, and within a few minutes, she’s starting to feel a little light headed and wobbly.

She turns her head slightly, and sets about sucking a hickey onto his neck, trying to focus on something, anything, than the warm, pleasurable feeling spreading through her. She feels like she’s seconds away from coming, and really doesn’t want to come just yet, wants to enjoy Stiles’ fingers for a while longer, because _holy shit_ , he really does know what he’s doing.

Only Stiles seems to have other ideas and moves his other hand from her hip, cupping and squeezing her breast through her dress, pinching lightly at her nipple when it hardens in response.

She comes with a small gasp, biting down on Stiles’ neck as wave after wave of pleasure crash through her, and she clings onto him as her legs start to shake. She’s vaguely aware of his heart beat racing as he strokes her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, gradually slowing his movements and lifting his thumb off her clit when she whimpers before withdrawing his fingers a few seconds later.

Embarrassingly, she blurts out a ‘thank you’, her brain feeling slow and sex stupid. Stiles, to his credit, doesn’t laugh, just reaches up with his clean hand and strokes her hair as she rests her head against his shoulder.

“You doing OK there?” He asks, resting his chin on the top of her head, her hair catching slightly on his stubble. The concept of Stiles having stubble irrationally amuses her, and she has to work hard to hold back the laugh that’s threatening to bubble up in her chest.

“I really want to fuck you,” She murmurs, rubbing her head against his neck and wrapping her arms around his waist. She hears the little shift in Stiles’ heart rate and smiles to herself, happy in the knowledge that he really seems to want that too.

“At your apartment?” Stiles asks slowly.

“It’s too far,” Cora complains playfully, “My legs are all shaky.”

“Here?” Stiles sounds surprised and pulls away from her slightly to look down at her. Cora smiles sweetly at him, pleased that he probably won’t be able to see her flushed cheeks in the dark of the alley as she nods. He gapes at her for a moment before he’s kissing her again, with a desperate urgency, his tongue flicking against hers as he rolls his hips, his rapidly hardening cock brushing against her stomach.

She loses track of time as they kiss, moaning into Stiles’ mouth when he moves his hands, sliding them down her back and grabbing at her ass, squeezing her cheeks lightly as they kiss. The next thing she’s aware of is Stiles nipping at her bottom lip before dropping suddenly to his knees and sliding his hands up her bare legs.

“What are you doing?” She asks, blushing when she hears the slight wobble in her voice.

“Want me to stop?” Stiles asks, pausing as he grazes his hands up her thighs before looking up at her through his lashes. Cora pauses for a minute before shaking her head, reaching up with her free hand to push her hair back and out of her face and Stiles smiles at her. The fingers of his left hand are still slightly wet, and they leave cold patches on her thigh as he runs his hands upwards, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and tugs them down.

She grips onto his shoulder slightly more tightly, the smell of her arousal more obvious now, mingling with the smell of Stiles’ own, biting her lip as he pushes her underwear down to her knees before tapping her on the side of the leg. She’s confused for a minute, until she realizes he’s expecting her to move so he can pull them off entirely.

“Cherries,” Stiles remarks as she steps out of them, keeping hold of them so they don’t drop to the ground. “Cute.”

Cora tugs sharply on his hair, feeling her cheeks grow hotter as she leans back against the wall. Stiles doesn’t seem to be getting up any time soon, and the longer he kneels there, staring up at her while he strokes his hands up the back of her thighs, the more ridiculous she starts to feel. She takes her hand away from his shoulder and fiddles with the hem of Kimmy’s stupid borrowed dress, feeling even more exposed than she did when she’d been forced to put the damn thing on in the first place. Stiles gently bats her hands away from the fabric, before ghosting his hands up the sides of her thighs and over her hips again, keeping his gaze locked on hers the whole while. She shivers involuntarily as his hands skim over the swell of her ass; as she watches him, he shuffles closer, taking one hand off her backside so he can push the front of her dress up, bunching the fabric in his fist and holding it by her hip.

She really blushes at that, because now she’s not just feeling like she’s exposed, she really is; the night air cool on her warm skin. Stiles glances up at her one last time, a slightly crooked grin on his face, the one that she’s always had a soft spot for. She watches nervously as he leans forward and presses a delicate kiss against the soft skin of her stomach before lowering his head further.  

She hears the filthy moan escape from her mouth as Stiles extends his tongue again and drags it slowly over her clit, flicking the tip of it upwards and making her gasp.

“You OK?” He asks, pulling back to look up at her, his lips glistening slightly in the low light, and she blushes again when she realizes just why his lips are so wet and shiny. She nods enthusiastically, glancing up towards the entrance to the alley before moving slightly, opening her legs a little wider to allow him better access. She’s never done anything like this before; she’s never even had sex outside of someone’s bedroom before, and the feeling that they could be discovered at any minute, that someone could walk down the alleyway and catch her with her borrowed dress hitched up on her hip, her legs spread as Stiles licks at her, makes her pulse race and sends a twinge of pleasure racing through her.

As she closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, one hand stretched out against the rough bricks to help her keep her balance, the other twisted in Stiles’ hair, she feels the knuckles of his free hand brushing lightly over the smooth skin of her inner thigh. He clamps his mouth over the clit, alternating between sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue against it; her breathing is becoming more ragged now as Stiles’ ministrations leave her more turned on and wetter than she thinks ever been before, so much so that she can feel it starting to slowly run down her thighs, towards his fingers.

“You taste amazing,” Stiles murmurs when he pulls away to catch his breath. Cora doesn’t really know what to say to that, and settles for tugging gently on his hair, inhaling sharply when he moves his hand, trailing his fingers along her lips teasingly. She fidgets when he stops, moving his fingertips in small circles, apparently enjoying how wet she is. She’s feeling too turned on and impatient to be standing here having him savor that right now, and desperately wants his fingers back inside her, his mouth covering her clit again, and hears herself begging him to do something, anything, while she pulls on his hair again.

Stiles takes the hint, takes all of her hints, leaning forward and swirling his tongue around the hard nub of her clit as he slowly, painfully slowly, slips his first two fingers into her. She arches her back at the feel of it, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out; Stiles definitely seems to know what he’s doing, crooking his fingers and hitting a spot inside of her that makes her knees go weak, and she has to grab for his shoulders to steady herself. She _feels_ him laugh against her at that, feels the vibrations of it traveling through her lower body and pinches his shoulder in response.

She’s probably being louder than she should right now, a tiny voice in her head points out; she’s almost panting now, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of Stiles’ shirt as he keeps licking at her, keeps fucking his fingers into her with the same slow movements, crooking them gently and making her moan loudly. Even so, it’s still almost a surprise when she starts to come, clenching hard around Stiles’ fingers.

Stiles moans, the noise muffled as he keeps lapping hard at her clit, and she looks down at him, not caring that her mouth is hanging open and she can’t really seem to vocalize any of the noises she needs to make right now. To her surprise, Stiles is gazing up at her, his eyes dark and wide and that completely pushes her over the edge; she flops her head back against the wall, her legs shaking as she comes harder than she can ever remember.

She’s suddenly very aware that Stiles’ mouth is still on her, and to her horror, feels the familiar gush of moisture she always gets right after she comes, the one her first serious boyfriend told her was disgusting and tries to push Stiles away from her, her hands flat on his shoulders. Stiles doesn’t seem disgusted at all though, and resists her kitten-weak attempts to move him, continuing to lap gently at her, his tongue replacing his fingers as he slowly pulls them out. She can feel, rather than hear, the contented noises he’s making as he greedily licks his way forward from her hole to her clit, until she’s wet with his saliva instead of her own arousal. When she pushes at his shoulders again, harder this time, because she’s getting too sensitive for him to carry on, he sits back on his heels, using his fingers to part her lips and pressing a soft kiss against her clit, grinning up at her when she squirms uncomfortably at the sensation.

“I –” She starts as he lets her dress fall back into place. She doesn’t get anything further than that though before he slides his fingers into his mouth, the fingers that were so very recently buried deep inside her, sucking and licking at them until they’re clean. He looks thoroughly debauched, although probably not as much as she does right now, and she grabs for him, pulling him to his feet so she can kiss him hungrily.

“I probably taste weird, right?” Stiles manages to ask between kisses, sliding his hands up into her hair. “I mean you don’t taste weird, God, you taste amazing. But weird for you right? Tasting yourself? Um.” He’s pulled away completely now, and it’s only then that she realizes he’s still got hold of her panties and is clutching them tightly right beside her ear.

She can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up through her at the sight of that, anymore than she could have held back the amazing orgasm Stiles has just teased out of her; to her horror, he pulls back, a hurt expression on his face as his hands slip out of her hair.

“You had my underwear, like, right by my face,” She manages to tell him between giggles, reaching for his wrist and pulling him close again. As she watches him, Stiles looks down at his hand and laughs, his nose scrunching up as he hastily shoves her panties into the back pocket of his jeans and crowds her against the wall again.

They drift back into another kiss, and it scares Cora how natural that movement feels, how right it feels to be kissing Stiles. So much for weirdness. They keep it up for a long time, groping at each other as they pant into each other’s mouths.

Cora’s breathing heavily now, when she finally leans back against the wall on still shaky legs as Stiles digs in his pocket, looking up at her for confirmation as he pulls out a condom and holds it up to her.

“You still want to?” He asks.

Cora nods and lets go of his shirt, running her finger tips down his chest and stomach until she reaches the waistband of his jeans where she toys with the button. Stiles smiles at her, carding his hand through her hair before pushing it back behind her ear in an oddly intimate gesture. “You’re kind of amazing, you know?”

“Shut up.”

“You don’t think we’re maybe crossing some kind of line?” Stiles asks quietly, his hand resting on her shoulder.

“Pretty sure you crossed the line when you ate me out,” She replies glibly, feeling her cheeks grow hot when he gives a small snort of laughter at that. “Might as well make sure we’re well and truly across it.”

She looks down at her hands, mostly so she doesn’t have to look at the fond smile on his face before quickly popping the button of his fly and dragging the zip down, smiling when she sees that Stiles is going commando.

“Very nice Stilinski,” She murmurs as she tugs his tight jeans lower on his hips and pulls his cock free. It seems bigger now than she’d imagined after groping him through his pants and feels heavy in the palm of her hand as she strokes it slowly.

“Thanks, I try,” Stiles laughs, canting his hips towards her as she swipes her thumb through the pre-come steadily leaking from his dick. She’s not really sure what makes her do it, but she lifts her hand to her mouth and licks the pad of her thumb, but it’s worth it for the look of wide-eyed surprise on Stiles’ face. She plucks the condom from his fingers as he gawps at her, ripping it open and rolling it down his cock and grinning when he moans at her touch. “So, um, how are we doing it – this?”

Cora pulls a face as she watches him stroking his cock before glancing around the alley. “Think you can lift me?”

“Sure,” Stiles shrugs, “You’re kind of tiny you know.”

She rolls her eyes before pulling him close again, gripping his shoulders tightly as he runs his hands down her sides and over her hips to grab hold of her ass, lifting her off her feet in one easy motion. He takes a wobbling step forward, so her back is up against the wall and taking some of her weight before he lowers her onto his dick, dropping his head onto her shoulder as he slips easily inside of her, exhaling a breathy ‘fuck’ against her neck when he bottoms out.

“I’m sorry in advance if it takes me a while,” Stiles whispers, pushing her back against the wall and moving his hands to better support her.

Cora looks at him for a moment as she wraps her legs around his waist, biting her lip when he gives an experimental thrust upwards. “You’re apologizing in case you take too long? Really?”

“I still feel a bit drunk,” Stiles tells her hurriedly. “Things might not work quite as quickly as they would normally. Sorry.”

She ignores him, working her fingers into his hair and pulling him into a filthy kiss as he starts to fuck into her, little muttered curses escaping his lips every time he pushes all the way inside of her.

The stretch makes her gasp; Stiles might not be the biggest guy she’s been with, but he comes a close second, and being pressed up against a wall like this, with her feet up off the ground makes him feel even bigger than he is. She tries to work her hand down between them, desperate to rub at her clit as Stiles fucks into her, to give herself some kind of relief from the ache that’s building up but the angle is awkward, and she feels like she’s about to lose her balance when she takes her hand off Stiles’ shoulder.

“Bricks are hurting my back,” Cora complains breathily, groaning as Stiles thrusts up into her again. “Can you – can we move?”

Stiles lifts his head away from her neck, looking a little dazed when he nods dumbly at her. She bites her lip as he pulls out, raising her eyebrow when he makes a strangled whimpering noise. Her legs feel a little wobbly when he lets her down, but she’s more focused on how empty she suddenly feels and how she desperately wants Stiles back in her.

“How do you –” Stiles starts, watching her as he strokes himself, flooding her senses with the smell of his arousal which is thankfully overwhelming the less pleasant smell of latex. She glances around the alleyway, grinning when she spots a door, a fire exit from one of the non-descript buildings surrounding the club; its slightly recessed, the actual door hidden in a little pool of shadow, but more importantly, there’s a small step between it and the street,

“Come on,” She whispers, grabbing for his hand and dragging him along behind her. The step gives her a little bit more height, not quite enough to put her the same height as Stiles, but just enough that she thinks he won’t need to hold her up. She hops onto the step, turning round and grinning at him.

“You want to hide in the dark?” He asks, taking another awkward, shuffling step towards her, the bottom of his shirt tugged down to hide his erection.

“No, I wanted to not be so short,” Cora huffs, grabbing hold of the front of his jeans and pulling him close so she can lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip as his dick bumps against her stomach.

“You are a bit of a short ass,” Stiles teases, grabbing a hank of her hair and tugging on it playfully.

“Yeah, well, now I’m not.”

She turns away from him, sticking her ass out slightly so his cock grazes across the gauzy material of her dress. She has no idea how she’s going to explain any suspect stains to Kimmy tomorrow, figures she’ll work something out in the morning.

“And this is better?” Stiles whispers, sweeping her hair to one side and nipping at her neck, licking and kissing over the tender spot when she moans and leans back against his chest.

“Much,” She replies, biting back a moan when he grinds up against her, his cock feeling even harder than it did before as it nudges against her ass, pushing the fabric of her dress between her legs. She’s busy trying to pull it out of the way when she hears an oddly wet noise from behind her and glances over her shoulder to see Stiles pulling his first two fingers out of his mouth. Before she can ask him what he’s doing, he reaches around in front of her, hitching up the front of her dress and gently parting her lips so he can rub his spit-slicked fingertips in tiny circles around her clit. She opens her legs a little wider, bracing her arms against the door in front of her and trying not to fidget uncomfortably as Stiles shoves her dress up over her hips, leaving her ass exposed.

She hears his sharp intake of breath behind her, and glances over her shoulder again to see him wrapping his hand around his cock before taking a shuffling step forward and pushing it between her ass cheeks; she stiffens for a minute, worried he’s about to do something she’s definitely not prepared for, but thankfully, he moves, moaning softly into her ear as his cock slides the length of her slit, nudging against her clit and making her gasp.

“Tease.”

Stiles laughs, and repeats the move a few more times; it’s pushing her closer and closer, and she can feel a low level of pleasure thrumming through her as she murmurs his name, more demanding this time.

The next minute, Stiles is pushing into her again, and from this angle, he feels even bigger than he had before; almost too big and verging on the wrong side of painful, but then he’s moving his hand around in front of her again, his long fingers teasing at her clit as he moves, slow, shallow thrusts which seem designed to drive her crazy instead of get her off. She takes one hand away from where she’s bracing herself against the door so she can cover his hand with her own, applying more pressure to where he’s touching her.

It doesn’t take them long to find a rhythm that works for them both; Cora can’t seem to do anything to stop herself from moaning every time Stiles pulls out, almost to the point of withdrawal before pushing back in. He’s still moving a little slower than she wants him too, but his fingers are still circling her clit and she can already feel her third orgasm of the night starting to build.

She feels Stiles move his other hand from her hip, fiddling with the zipper on the back of her dress and tugging it down sharply before she can react; the scoop back and cut out sides of the dress mean that she’s had to go bra-less, and the tightness of the top is all that’s been keeping her in place. Once the zipper is down, she feels worryingly unsupported and reaches up to cover her chest with her arm to stop her breasts swinging roughly every time Stiles thrusts into her.

“You ok?”

Stiles’ voice is rough, and before she can respond, he’s reaching up and gently pulling her arm away so he can cup her breast, rubbing her nipple with the side of his thumb.

He’s plastered over her back now, his breath hot and wet on the back of her neck as he teases and tweaks her nipple while still managing to work her clit between his fingers, one knuckle of either side as he moves his hand in a circular motion. The tiny part of her brain that isn’t focused on how amazing all this feels is impressed with how coordinated his movements are: mostly she’s just trying to hold it together while Stiles seems to do everything in his power to break her apart.

“You close?” He asks breathily; his forehead’s sweaty where it’s pressed against her bare back, his breath warming her skin as his thrusts become harder and more erratic.

“Wasn’t ever far,” Cora gasps before biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. It doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, but evidently Stiles understands what she means as he speeds up, cursing under his breath as he starts to fuck her in earnest.

It’s too much. The feeling of his knuckles nudging at her aching clit, his slightly calloused thumb brushing over her nipple, the way the hint of stubble on his chin scratches her back as he moves. But at the same time, it’s not enough; the need to come is so strong, and she can feel it there, just beneath the surface. The intensity is making her want to cry and she presses Stiles’ fingers harder against her clit, slamming back against him in desperation.

“Fu-uck,” He gasps suddenly, mouthing at the knobs of her spine, “fuck! ‘m coming!”

She feels his movements start to stutter and he slams into her one last time as groans loudly, grazing his teeth over her back as his dick twitches and throbs as he fills the condom; it’s the thought of that, of the scent of the two of them in the air and his wrecked little moans that finally pushes her over the edge and she comes too, unable to stop the almost painful sounding cry that escapes as her cunt flutters and clenches around his still pulsing cock.

“Do I have to move?” Stiles asks after a few minutes of silence, pulling his hand out from between her legs. She doesn’t need to turn round to know that he’s sucking his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean of her juices while she tries to catch her breath.

She nods emphatically, standing on tip toes so he starts to slide out. Stiles makes a sad little noise as he reluctantly pulls out, his fingers brushing against her swollen lips as he keeps hold of the condom to stop it slipping off. She screws her eyes up at the strangely empty feeling, her breath catching in her throat when she feels that familiar gush of fluid again; she tries to move away from Stiles’ hand before she grosses him out but surprisingly for her, isn’t quick enough and hears his sharp inhalation as he presumably notices it.

“Sorry,” She mumbles, taking a step forward and away from him. She keeps her head bowed as she hears him tie off the condom, hears the soft noise is makes as it hits the asphalt. The next minute, he’s stepping into her space, running his hands up her bare arms gently and turning her towards him.

“Sorry for what?”

She pulls a face, keeping her eyes averted as she gestures towards his left hand. She’s horrified when she notices the knuckles are slick and shiny, and blushes when he looks down at it too and smiles.

“Sorry for this?” He asks, lifting his hand and dragging his tongue slowly across his first knuckle. “Why?”

“It’s gross,” Cora whispers, staring down at the toes of her boots. “It happens sometimes when I come.”

Stiles reaches out, with his clean hand, thankfully, crooking his finger under her chin and tilting her head upwards until she has to look at him. “Trust me, this –” he waves his hand for emphasis “– is definitely not gross. Opposite of gross. Did someone tell you it was gross?”

Cora nods, as much as she’s able to with his finger beneath her chin, feeling suddenly despondent as she thinks about how seedy what they’ve just done is. For the first time that evening, she’s wishing she was anywhere but in an alleyway with Stiles. He moves his hand, licking at his fingers again and making pleased little noises while he maintains eye contact with her, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I love the way you taste.”

Cora blushes furiously, shifting when he moves his free hand to her hip and starts to slowly pull her dress up again.

“Please?”

“Why?”

“Because you taste amazing,” Stiles whispers, dropping to his knees again and looking up at her, “Because it’s not gross. It’s hot as hell. Can I taste you again?” There’s no lie there; he’s telling her the absolute truth, and after taking in his eager expression for a couple of seconds, she nods her head and hitches her dress up,

He sits there for a moment, looking almost reverential as he looks up at her, his warm hands gripping her hips tightly. It’s only when she shifts awkwardly that he shuffles forward, pressing a light kiss against her sparse pubic hair. He taps her on the thigh, signaling her to open her legs further; she tangles her fingers in his hair, tensing slightly when the tip of his tongue catches her oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, his words vibrating through her and making her shiver. She tries to relax a little as he drags the flat of his tongue along her slit before moving to her inner thigh, pressing hot little sucking kisses against her damp skin. He does it a few more times, light kitten licks, not really intended to get her off again. Not that she’s even sure if she could come again; she feels absolutely wrecked right now. It’s nice though, the way Stiles is licking at her, like he’s cleaning her up and she’s really starting to get into it when he suddenly stops, pulling away and kissing his way up her stomach and chest before brushing his lips gently against her own as he reaches behind her and zips up her dress for her.

“So,” He starts, hovering nervously as she stoops to pick up her jacket, keeping a tight hold on the hem of her dress because Stiles still has her panties in his back pocket, “That wasn’t weird, right?”

She shrugs her jacket on, pulling her hair out from where its trapped before she looks up at him and shakes her head, biting her lip to stop the stupid grin that’s twitching at the corners of her mouth. “No. It was good. You were good.”

“We were good,” Stiles corrects, holding his fist out for her to bump, making a sad little noise when she swats it away. He immediately holds his hand out again, but this time his fingers are splayed and there’s a hopeful smile playing across his face.

“You’re such a dork,” She mutters, slipping her hand into his and leaning into his side. “Don’t tell me you get all mushy and romantic after sex.”

“You sure as hell don’t,” Stiles laughs, giving her hand a quick squeeze and swinging his arm. “So, um, about your apartment?”

She looks at him for a long minute, at flushed spots on his cheeks, just visible to her in the low light, and the way he’s smiling hopefully at her and feels her heart beat speed up for a minute as she nods. It doesn’t have to mean anything, taking him back to the apartment. Just two friends, possibly having more amazing sex. Nothing wrong with that what so ever.

On a whim, she uses her grip on his hand to drag him closing, pulling him into a filthy kiss as with her free hand, she gently squeezes his cock.

“Jesus Christ, Little Hale,” Stiles murmurs against her lips, grinding against the palm of her hand, “you’re going to be the fucking death of me!”

**Author's Note:**

> Cora and Stiles' ages aren't explictly stated, but they're both college age in this!
> 
> **~**
> 
> [tumblr](http://the-misfortune-teller.tumblr.com/), motherfuckers. watch me whinge and post untagged pictures of tyler hoechlin.


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